


This Street, That Man, This Life

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Marriage, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor reflects on the joy of domesticity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Street, That Man, This Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the joy of small days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/273542) by [leiascully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully). 



> Timeline: sometime after "The Impossible Astronaut"  
> A/N: Title is from a song by the Cowboy Junkies. For Syddoc.  
> Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

The Doctor dozes for a while with River in his arms. His cheek is pressed to her forehead and his eyelashes catch in her curls when he blinks. She makes a sweet noise as she sleeps and curls closer against him. His River, utterly invulnerable and utterly vulnerable all at once. The Doctor closes his eyes again. The rain patters softly on the roof. He can smell the last wisps of woodsmoke from the fireplace and the perfume of River's soap and the slightly earthy scent of previously sweaty skin. He breathes deeply, pulling the air into to the very bottom of his lungs. 

If he could press this moment between panes of glass and keep it forever, he would. If he could hold his breath and keep her with him always, he would do it. His hearts feel as if they're glowing softly in his chest, alight with love. It has been so long since he allowed himself the luxury of loving someone this way, of hoping to build a life together. Whatever he and River have, it's unpredictable, but it's stable. He doesn't doubt it for a moment. Their adventures careening through the universe are real and this is just as real, this quiet hour that they have constructed from the scraps of time they are allowed.

He kisses River's forehead and gently untangles his limbs from hers. She murmurs in her sleep, mild protest. He can't help smiling when he looks at her; she pushes her face into the pillow and sighs. He finds his pyjama bottoms on the floor and pulls them on. River's dressing gown is hanging on the wardrobe and he slips his arms into it and ties it around his waist. It doesn't fit particularly well, but he feels as if she's still holding him. Time Lord Beloved, that's him tonight, in his wife's home, in his wife's dressing gown. He pauses at the door and looks back at River, and his bones sing with happiness. His whole being resonates with it until it's nearly too sweet to bear. He closes the door softly and moves across the floor with bare feet.

It's either very late or very early, depending on your point of view. He likes to think it's early - carpe diem and all that. This is a day he won't let slip through his fingers. Every second of it matters, small as it is. He would call it an inconsequential day if it were happening to anyone else; as it is, it's one of the most important he's lived in a very long time. He putters around River's kitchen, only turning on one light in case it gleams down the hall and wakes her. There's milk, which is a start. He opens the cupboards until he finds the baking supplies - fortunately, she's well-stocked with cocoa and sugar. He puts the milk on to heat and rummages until he finds two mugs and two spoons. There's a whisk in a jar of kitchen utensils.

He stirs very carefully, not letting the milk scald, putting just the right amount of froth into it as the cocoa and the sugar dissolve into the milk. He hardly spills any of it as he pours it from the pan into the mugs. Just as he picks up the mugs to carry them to the table, he hears the quiet sound of the floorboards. River stands at the threshold of the kitchen, wearing her oversized sweater over bare legs. 

"Good morning," he tells her, his voice a little huskier than he'd hoped, but she is so completely lovely. The dim light traces her curls and her curves and gleams softly on her skin.

"I wish every morning started this way," she says, coming over for a kiss. Her lips are soft and warm; he thinks of Sunday mornings spent in bed, basking in the simple luxury of love. She wraps her hands around her mug and takes it from him, sitting down at the kitchen table. 

"Do you really want this to be every day?" he asks, sitting down across from her.

She considers, blowing on her cocoa. "No," she says at last. "We're not meant for this, you and me. We're made for the big days, adventure and excitement and the pivot points of history. Knowing what's beyond my walls means I'll never stay in one place for good. But I would keep it with me if I could, to remind me. Everyone needs a day like this every once in a while, or the big things stop feeling so important, and the little people as well." She sips thoughtfully at her cocoa and smiles to herself. He sips his cocoa too, hardly noticing when it burns his tongue; he is in awe of her again. A lifetime of suffering and a heart ill-suited for mercy and she is still so full of compassion, still so capable of wonder. He can barely comprehend the maddening, exquisite, glorious contradictions of her. He is astounded that her skin can contain the whole of her being. She looks up at him. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I was thinking that marrying you might be the best decision I've made since I borrowed the TARDIS," he tells her, and it isn't enough, but it's all he has the words for.

Her face lights up, brighter than a sunrise, and he could kick himself for every unkind word he's ever said to her. Every moment that he hasn't made her feel loved and cherished has been a moment whose potential was wasted. They drink their cocoa in poignant, happy silence. Outside, the rain stops. The drops on the window catch the silver light of the moon. River finishes her cocoa and sets down her cup. She stretches a little, an expression of pleasure on her face. 

"And what shall we do today?" she asks. "Save a civilization? Rescue a kitten? Thwart a mastermind? Unravel the mysteries of the universe?"

"There's time enough tomorrow," the Doctor tells her, reaching for her hand as he stands up. "I think I'd like a bath."

"How very ordinary of you," she teases, smiling at him. 

The Doctor shrugs. "Somehow you manage to make everything extraordinary," he tells her. "Shall we?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she says, and they walk down the hall arm in arm to begin their extraordinarily ordinary day.


End file.
